Binding Fates
by Morbid DramaQueen10
Summary: "It was just my luck tonight was a binding night. And I was stupid enough to be wanding out in the woods. Alone. Fate sometimes has bigger plans for us than we anticipate." Once a oneshot, revised to be 12 chapters. Occurs over five years after events in the movie. Sarah/Jareth.
1. Starting Points

**I felt like after reading so many wonderful Labyrinth pieces, it was time to try my hand at this one shot. I must warn you, it switches from third to first person about one sixth of the way in. For storytelling reasons. **

**My Jareth is a tad different from the David Bowie one. It is the same character, grant you, I've made a few physical changes. My inspiration came from this DA piece by Mercuralis. .com/art/Jareth-Leather-and-Velvet-49419529**

**I highly suggest you check it out. **

**DISCLAIMER: Labyrinth isn't mine, blah blah blah. References to other piece of fiction aren't mine either blah blah blah. **

**Now please, enjoy!**

**And review.**

**Yeah.**

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He reminded her of a lion. Or an eagle. Some noble, kingly creature with his wild gold mane and sharp, predatory eyes. She wasn't sure she liked the shivering her body was prone to do when those eyes were turned upon her.

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

Jareth the Goblin King had ruled the Underground's Labyrinth for over five thousand years by the time Sarah had shown up. They had been prosperous, fairly peaceful years. The Labyrinth had expanded and renovated in that time, becoming a friendlier sort of place than it had been in his father's reign. Jareth wasn't one for the cobwebs and monsters. He preferred beautiful things, ironic and ridiculous objects rather than the horrific images his predecessor liked. Not only was he fond of the changes, but his citizens certainly were as well. Although there were still some who compared his firm rule to that of Globberhook the Bloody, who had rule twelve thousand years previously. But these inconstant persons typically lived outside of the Goblin City, so they didn't see the vast living improvements he'd made. True, he had created the Bog, and kept up the oubliettes. But those were really just set up so that he might occasionally make good on his threats. No one was guillotined, and he'd done away with public torture. Really, they had no reason to complain.

He was acknowledged, by many, to be a just and great king, loved by his people. He was revered for the creation of a fair court, the creation of the castle beyond the goblin city, and the destruction of the Labyrinth's bored army to form a militia and solid palace guard. But Sarah had spent most of her time in the Labyrinth with those who had a negative view of the King. She had never spoken to the cityfolk, or the goblins. If she had, she would have been assured of the King's generous nature, noble heart, quick wit…

But no. She was not exposed to any of this. Sarah retained her ill ideas of the enchanting King. He became the villain in her stories, the shadow in her dreams, the dark memory in the back of her mind that cause her to check twice behind her shoulder when out alone at night. Jareth was given a bad name from the start, and there was little he could do to change the impressionable girl's opinion of him.

It was a late summer trip to the lake when they met again. Sarah had a long-standing open invitation to her grandmother's lakeside cabin. When the week had been long, the stress too much, she drove the hundred miles armed with marshmallows, canned soup and tea. It was secluded from the other lake's tourist-y, motorboat-loving residence, for it stood on the far side of the waters, which tended to be a rockier area. One had to take the winding gravel backroads, which was far from safe. That, coupled with frequent bear and wolf sightings, made the cabin a bit of an adventure.

Her father and stepmother tended to worry when she went out there, often calling and basically never leaving hearing rang of their phones until she managed to return to them in one piece. The one time Sarah came home with an injury (a long cut going up her calf from stumbling whilst hiking), she had never heard the end of it. They'd even gone as far as to suggest stopping by the ER for stitches, though Sarah hadn't seen the need.

It was summer. June, to be exact. Classes at the private liberal arts university Sarah attended were out for break. She had a summer job working in a used bookstore downtown, _One Good Read_. It was a musty place, filled with beat up romance novels, yellow-paged textbooks, and water-stained cookbooks. A hippy woman owned the store, or at least, that's what Sarah called her, besides Clara, her name. She wore round spectacles, braided belts with broomstick skirts and woven sandals. Hemp and shell necklaces adorned her spectacularly colourful silk peasant blouses, and her waist-length hair was rarely out of its braid. Sarah thought her to be quite wonderful indeed. She regularly worked Monday-Thursdays, which meant she saw Clara almost every day.

The day was Thursday, and it was one of those rare days when Clara left to a book auction in the next county over, leaving Sarah and Michelle, Clara's snotty niece, to run the store themselves. While running the bookshop was usually nice, Michelle could easily (and often) prove that the efforts of one person can turned any situation into a complete circus. She pissed off two customers, knocked over two rows from their rickiest shelf, spent most of her time behind the register talking to Darian, her jock-loser boyfriend, and lost the two post-its messages Sarah had left Clara, from the pharmacy down the street when they called about her prescriptions.

Needless to say, Sarah hadn't been particularly pleased with her coworker. But she held her tongue till closing, and screamed into her pillow once she reached her apartment.

Really, she could've screamed anywhere she liked. Both her roommates, Jessie and Laurel, were gone for the week. Jessie to visit her out-of-state family, Laurel for a college service project in Rwanda. She had the entire place to herself for over seven days. Still, it wasn't…enough. She felt lonely in the small apartment, surrounded by other humans going through their daily lives while she lazed about in silence.

She had been so grateful for privacy when she moved out of her father and Karen's house. The floral, picture-perfect nightmare had suffocated her. While she loved her family dearly, it was time to leave. Even sharing with two other people was vast improvement—they could reasonably respect her boundaries, without being entirely disinterested in her health and well-being. It was paradise, really, in comparison. Her family was less than fifteen minutes away, but far enough not to see every day. She could actually have time to miss them. Truly, it was brilliant.

And yet…even all alone, Sarah felt claustrophobic. She needed air and space and _peace. _Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realized it was only five o'clock. If she left in the next half hour, she could be at the lake by seven. Honestly, the only thing that could fix the hellish day was some peace and quiet, so why not take a 3-day weekend? Nothing was going on for the next few days, and she wouldn't be missed.

Making up her mind, Sarah stood and practically flew to her room, snatching a worn duffle from the closet. She was sufficiently packed in about fifteen minutes, and was out the door in five more. With a trip to the grocery store and a quick call home she would be set for the weekend. Then all she would need to do was a quick call to both her roommates, giving them an f.y.i. in case they called the flat.

When Sarah finally started her calls, she was halfway out of town, making it near-impossible to stop her. Karen was nearly hysterical.

"Did you not read about those bear attacks last week in the paper?" She shrieked into the phone.

Sarah pulled the receiver away from her ears, grimacing. "That was last year. In Michigan."

"I don't care. It's dangerous out there, all on your own, Sarah! For god's sake you couldn't take anyone with you? Or at least given us some warning, and we might've gone too?"

"It was kind of a last minute thing. And I wouldn't take just anyone to Nana's cabin."

"I think Nana wouldn'tve cared who you brought to her cabin, so long as you were safe."

Sarah rolled her eyes. Nana wouldn't have just cared, she would've rolled in her grave.

"If you and Paul were still together…didn't you say you were still friends?"

That was her cue to sigh and explain that yes, she was still friends with her ex-boyfriend, but no, she was not inviting him to spent a summer weekend alone with her on the lake. Why? "Because I don't want to send him the wrong impression, Karen. Listen, I'm sorry but I've got to go. Driving and talking cell phones isn't a good idea, right? Okay? See you Sunday night."

The cell was dropped with resolute intention onto the passenger seat, where it would remain for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Chances were, her two roommates wouldn't be calling over the next two days—after all, they hadn't in the two weeks they'd already been gone. She wasn't going to worry about it. They had an answering machine, and at worst they could always try her cell. This weekend was going to be about _her. _Her peace of mind, her sanity, her relaxation.

The cabin came into sight after a treacherous twenty-five minute drive through the woods. It looked the same as always, eternal and sheltered. A place of rest. It was a great old house, hand built, with a good, solid stone foundation her great-great-somethings had dug up themselves and hauled to the site. There was a fireplace, a bedroom, a small bathroom, loft/attic, and a general open room which housed a kitchen, dining table, and living room sort of space. Modern updates had been applied accordingly.

Sarah snagged her old duffle and climbed out of the car. Once she reached the porch, she searched her ring of keys to find the brass bit, and stuck it in the lock. The door creaked open slowly, and she was hit with the smell of dust, pine, and lavender. Faded golden light softly fell through the window on the back wall, sparkling bits reflected off the lake dancing across the old pane of glass. She crossed to stand by the window, and pushed back the thin curtains. Two blue-green dragonflies chanced each other over the amber water. None of the noise motor boats were out. Her entire line of sight was void of human life.

What peace.


	2. A Breath of Fresh Air

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I hadn't come to the lake in ages. Why?

Or, more importantly, why had I come tonight?

I mean, it's not like I had _actual _plans or anything-tonight had been reserved so I could finish the final chapter on my novel (my secret baby, created between classes and during holiday breaks), and watch that movie Laurel had been so thrilled about. Nothing that couldn't be moved to a later date. But still…the lake had just popped into mind just at the right moment, as I had been watching Michelle, still on her cell phone, blow and deflate this huge bubble of gum in, like, thirty seconds. Or perhaps time was just going by me at a rapid pace, for it sure seemed like eternity. The rubbery pink skin of the bubble was first smooth, like a balloon, then slowly buckled, puckering back between Michelle's wide, Juicy Couture Coconut Macaroon-cover lips. Then, she proceeded to stick it underneath the check out desk.

From where I stood (which was on one of those fancy brass wheeled ladders we use to hunt for books on the top shelves), I could practically smell the artificially flavored bit of rubbery candy. Nauseated, I hung to the nearest shelf.

"_Why don't you go to the Lake?"_

Yes, why not? No matter that the quiet little voice saying these words inside my head wasn't anything like my usual internal voice. It was a fantastic idea, and I took it up as my own.

And here I am. Nothing held me back. I am here, sitting on the edge of the ancient creaking dock, legs dangling over the water, toes skimming the glimmering surface. There are no fish, or birds, or anything, because it's less than an hour from sunset. It is peaceful. Still, somehow, empty. There is a void, empty of life and activity. Sighting, I push back my hair and drop my gaze from the sparkling scenery. Though it isn't late or even dark, I feel a pressing need to go back inside. There will be time tomorrow to enjoy the outdoors. Tonight I'll go to bed early, so I can rise late.

From behind me, I head a scuttling. I turn my head, staring into the line of cedar that backs me. A branch or too moves, but it could easily be the wind. There is a grunt. I stand, staring. A wolf? A bear? There have been sightings near here. Panic being to slowly creep up my spine. Oh gods, why hadn't I brought anything? Mace? Pocket knife? Something! Stupid, stupid Sarah!

The sounds stopped. I back to the very edge of dock, eyeing the trees which had previous been friendly and pretty. Now they are rather ominous. The silence could indicate the creature's exit, or perhaps it's just now sensed me. Preferably the latter. I hold my breath.

Suddenly, a flash of white flings itself out of the trees to soar over the lake, then looped back to land on an oak that sat on the water's edge. A soft wing clipped the back of my head. I stumble, caught myself on the railing. There was a shriek.

A white owl—barn, I believe—perches on one low branch of the tree. I narrow my eyes, rubbing the back of my head. It hadn't hurt, but still. Birds carry disease, right? My biology professor once made a huge lecture about it, last semester. The bird shrieks again—and here I thought owls could just hoot. Honestly, I swear it is laughing at me. The thing stares at me, twisting its head this way and that. I glare back. It is just a bird, but there is an eerie feel to the way he looks me up and down. Well, I assume it's a he. The owl nips his curved beak in my direction once, then launches him self off of the oak. He brushes past me once more, before I can duck. And then he skims out above the lake water.

The event leaves me with chills. I felt thoroughly examined. The owl had looked at me like…well, like a predator. Eager. Sizing me up. Challenging.

Only one creature had even scorched me with such a look before.

But that was stupid. I mean, this was a bird. A _bird, _for god's sake, not an arrogant Goblin King.

I return to the cabin, unpack my few things and the food, then set about to making dinner. Canned soup and a dry peanut butter sandwich—something Nana made whenever we came out here together. Tradition. I read while eating, a biography of Chesterton. Every since the events of five years ago, I steadily avoid fantasy novels. I'll still browse fiction works, but stay away from Hans Anderson, and the Grimm Tales. Hoggle had been quick to inform me that a number of those beloved stores were not merely children's stories, but true. A disconcerting, almost terrifying fact.

Later, before going off to bed, I drew back the curtains to gaze upon the lake one more time. Surprisingly, everything was clearly visible. A whole round orb hung in the night's sky, surrounded by pinprick of white light. Hmmm. I totally didn't notice that a full moon was scheduled for tonight. The water looks simply gorgeous.

One cup of coco, and I make my way into the bedroom. The bedding was a little worn; the quilt had been made by my great-great aunt. Yellow, with twisted green vines and pink and red roses along the border. Nana always said it was a story quilt, and if you just looked hard enough, you could see the tale sewn between each seam. I had yet to find any stories.

Falling asleep was easy. I lay for mere minutes, thinking about tomorrow. My body was completely ready rest. I allowed myself to relax and slip into a new stream of consciousness, my weary mind gave me one last coherent thought: There was no full moon predicted for tonight. There had been one _last_ week. But there wasn't a blue moon scheduled for at least four years.

**XXXXXXXXX**


	3. Something Special

**XXXXXXXXX**

It has been years since I have been to the surface world.

There had been no true reason to come. While there was never a shortage of wished-away tots, few cases deserved my personal attention. There were always members of the court and upper-intelligence goblins that could easily do the simple task of explaining the rules of my Labyrinth. I had a nation to run, and more importantly, a champion to watch. The Aboveground could wait.

And it had. Little had changed, since my last visit. They are still polluting themselves into endangerment, killing off all of their animals, fighting over scraps of land. It is a corrupt, dark place. Though, not much worse than my homelands. The humans could barely stop picking themselves off, now they're turning to the stars to spread their filthy hate. How my champion can stand it, in comparison to my glorious kingdom?

She couldn't. She didn't.

While I have not risen to the surface in quite some time, not a week went by without my champion's face filling my view. Five years had done her well. She is no longer a sniveling child, whining to get her way and throwing minor fits when not getting it. As she had said herself "Life is not Burger King—it's not always your way."

I'm still not entirely certain as to what or who "Burger King" is, but that is beside the point. She is ready. She is perfect. Mature. Clever. Brilliant. Ready.

And not mine. That is the crux of the problem, isn't it? The first champion in centuries, and I've failed to secure her.

I did not expect to see her on this trip. I've come to the Aboveground because of the rarity of the moon—an unpredicted blue moon. These events are wine to a faire king. Blue moons transfuse a great amount of raw energy into the land. Energy faire love colleting. It is like a party, a drug—thick in pleasure, with a quick, tangible high. The air is taint with magic. The feeling is like no other. I've heard it compared to a human's intoxication.

This is why I have come. To see the rare orb, and to take in her energy. While my kingdom has plentiful, there is nothing more pure, more refined than the moon's silver light on faire skin. It is…unbearably prefect.

This lake seems like the best place, as well. Most faire join together in Eire, or any other scared place, in masses. It is a grand event, and the faire join as kin to rejoice. Fairies are social creatures. It is prefect natural to gather together on such a fine night. Yet, as nobility, it is…unseemly for me to mingle among them. As well as dangerous. The far safer method of collection is to just go it alone, even if it feels painfully wrong. I have suffered through much worse than separation.

Then again…

The very worst pain I've felt in my life came from a quick, unexpected separation from my champion. Had I known her will, perhaps I'd have not been so quick to allow my emotions free reign over this challenge. For they found my runner to be a fair one. A fair one, indeed. And these emotions, they had not the sight to predict her departure.

She ought not have left! She was but a _child_, easily seduced into remaining in my lands, easily persuaded into a life of servitude, easily broken! And yet no, I _failed_ to secure my true victory. The babe would have been a fine treasure, but the runner…the runner, the fair one, was the true prize. A prize I had lost.

The first runner in over five hundred years to beat my Labyrinth. The first to ever reject my parting offer.

Oh yes. She is something special.

But I shan't ever let her know so. The fair Sarah is far from me now. Out of sight, but not out of mind. I've got no leave to bother her. And even if she would allow me leave… Besides, the child had her chance, and she squandered it on the shrieking babe.

I wander among the great pines and oaks, skimming the water's edge as I travel toward the round clearing I spotted earlier on my flight. It cannot be too far now. I spotted it not long after the encounter with the girl on the dock. I honestly hadn't meant to hit her. The sun had filled my eyes when I started flight, and once I started back in from the water—well, to navigate away from her would have been difficult.

Five more steps, and I shall be there. Twelve minutes, and I shall be ready for the ceremony. Three hours, and I can return home.

I push back one full pine branch. The clearing is open to me. Grass, silver in the moon's light, sways gently in the light breeze, which is fragrant with the pale flowers that reside throughout the space. I reach into my satchel to remove the brocade drawstring pouch Elluia packed for me this morn. I remove a pinch of the crushed leaves inside and stride to the center of the clearing. Once there, I fling the powder into the night air and wait for it to settle. Then I murmur a quick prayer and proceed to line the edge of the wood with it. Soon, the poetic scent surrounds me; lavender, thyme and sage. It is a melody of protection, of power.

Tonight is a special night. A time of power. Of bounding. It is said to strengthen bonds, power relationships. Unforeseen blue moons are especially powerful, as they are unbound, and therefore binding. Many of my people choose a night such as this to mate and marry. But that is not my cause tonight. I am here to gather what I can, not bind myself to a tart.

I finish with more prayers. It is time to begin. In the center once more, I call forth a crystal, which hovers before me, emitting a soft light. I chant thrice to call the surrounding energy to me. The clearing's breeze slows, as if listening to my ancient words.


	4. It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

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I have no clue what time it is. But for whatever reason, I can't find sleep. I had slept for…two hours? Perhaps? Then I woke up and now I'm stuck. Awake.

The moon isn't exactly helping things. The light shines through the thin curtains, practically blinding. Really as irritating as it is beautiful. I lay with my hair spread out on the cool pillow, begging silently for unconsciousness to overtake me. Alas, my prayers seem to be going unanswered. Pity. Seeing that there is little else to be done, I sit up, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed to hear the pathetic _"creak" _it emits over the motion. Figures, it's a very old bed. Older than the cabin, which Nana claimed was built three years after she was born. In other words, a very, very long time ago.

I move to the kitchen, grab the kettle sitting on the stove. Nana doesn't own a microwave, even in her house in the city. She uses an old painted kettle and one of those old electrical popcorn poppers that blows the corn out through a plastic tunnel. So, if I want tea, I'm going to have to do it the old fashioned way. I turn the tap handle and wait. If I don't, I'll end up with sulfur-flavored Constant Comment. Not nice.

Part of me wishes to call upon Hoggle, or one of my other Labyrinth friends. However, Hoggle always warned me against calling on full moons. He said it would be easy for anyone to slip through whatever passage he made. _"Some very not-nice things. Thing not of the Labyrinth. And let me tell you, if Jareth doesn't want to mess with it, it ought not be messed with, ya hear little lady?"_

So no late-night visitors. That really sucked, seeing as I'm sure Ludo would love to see the lake. The rocks in this area have a lot of character.

I think some more on Hoggle's warning. The Goblin King's names sticks in the back of my throat, though I make not a sound. I had never used his name myself, only heard it used by Hoggle on occasion—typically when the King did something particularly rude. It sounds…ancient. Formidable. Truly the name of a king. I wondered for a long time what it meant. When I came home from that adventure five years ago, I had Googled it with the hopes of discovering some hidden meaning to my "dream," which I was fully convinced had happened. Until Hoggle made a surprise visit three months later, along with three bouncy goblins. Then there was no denying it—I had traveled to another world. I had fought my way through a vast and magical kingdom, and I had saved my little brother from the clutched of a villainous tyrant.

Well, perhaps not "tyrant." Everyone else of the Labyrinth claimed the King is a righteous, fair man who spends a good deal of time working to improve his citizen's lot. They push examples of his generosity, his clear care for his people, his enduring loyalty. He holds open court twice a month to hear complaints and concerns. He regularly spends personal wealth to improve city life, and took taxes of all forms when a rural family could not offer currency. Even I have to admit, he seems like a pretty fair monarch. Someone I could, theoretically, get along with.

The water seems fine now, and I begin to fill the kettle, then set it on the stove. Then I turn on the gas and light a match, tossing it between the metal grate. Before coming to the cabin, I'd never seen an old gas stove. It gives me a vintage sort of feel, doing everything in this old-fashioned way.

From where I stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, I feel the overwhelming urge to go outside. Frowning, I cross to the window and push back the curtains. A blank canvas faces me; no monsters, no ghosts, nothing. The feeling was so out of the blue…surely it's nothing. Just one of those crazy late night impulses. I turn back to the kettle—it should be done soon—when there's another wretched surge of longing and I'm at the window in a flash. Again, nothing. I bit my lip. While sounds rather dangerous, I am tempted. My conscious tells me it is a really stupid idea. But life would be nothing without stupid ideas, so three minute later, I've turned down the stove, put on a light jacket and shoes, grabbed a flashlight, and walked outside.

After some slow walking, I decide to turn off the flashlight –I don't want to attract anything with the light. I stumble about for about five minutes, staying about 15 feet away from the edge of the lake, which seems to glow by the power of the moon. It's light enough, for now.

It is a fairly peaceful walk, until I'm about twenty minutes away from the cabin. At that point, I had turned to stare out over the illuminated water. A quiet, rhythmic humming reaches my ears. At first I thought it was a just a baritone fly, or something. But then I heard the chant alongside it. Obviously, it isn't just an irksome bug, but a voice. A human voice.

Again, I feel an overwhelming urge to move toward the voice. My legs move, but not of their own accord. Through the trees, shattered bits of light hits my eyes. The chanting grows louder.


	5. Crash and Burn

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There is a distinct crashing coming through the trees behind me. Feet, attempting to find their way in the darkness of the forest. If possible, I would stop. But to stop the ritual is extremely dangerous. Let the human see what the will—for it must be a human, no other creature is so clumsy and blunt—they could end regretting it. No matter. It is, after all, just a human. A soap bubble. No matter at all.

Just as I am turning my crystal, completing the last verse, I sense the human stop, just before the tree line. Pausing to listen, perhaps.

I close my eyes. The crystal emits one last burst of light, sending the clearing into temporary daylight. I cannot help but laugh as my hair (much shorter then it had been in centuries) flies back in the breeze. It is entirely exhilarating. Raw power surges through my arms, my chest and neck, my legs and feet….

And then the feeling stops. A tiny gasp comes from behind me, and I whip around to face _the girl. _The very same one I hit today on the dock. She is standing behind me, eyes wide and green and curious and…so very familiar. She is on the very edge of the clearing, standing in my ring of herbs. I turn fully to stalk forward. This child doesn't mover, merely stares at me as I come closer and closer. My feet stop only two feet from her. My breath is heavy and ragged. Surely I resemble one of the great beasts of this forest, in her eyes.

This girl isn't truly a child, more of a young woman, perhaps as old as twenty—the age of many mothers I've taken from. She has dark hair, which has been restrained by a messy sort of knot. Her outfit is clearly for sleeping, as it is a pair of cotton pants, what humans refer to as a "tea-shirt," and a zippered knit jacket, along with a pair of dirty old shoes. I smell city filth on her, with tea, honey and thyme. Her forest-coloured eyes are focused, wide. They so very familiar, yet I cannot place them. I know I've seen eyes like this before.

My memories attempts to surface. I cannot see anything directly, but I feel…pain. Unbearable pain. Gods above, who is this girl? Has she some connection to me, or my kingdom? There is an ungodly ripping sensation about my mind, something pricking, itching, telling me-

"S-s-sorry," The girl stutters, backing away from me carefully. "I didn't mean to, er, um…intrude? I'll just go now, okay? Right now…"

Her back hits the oak with a definite "_thud."_ The eyes widen even more with fear as a few stray strands of dark hair falls to cover her face and I realize who is standing before me. My champion, returned.

"_Sarah," _I breathe. Oh, tonight is my lucky night. It shall be truly a piece of cake.

**XXXXXXX**

"S-s-sorry, I didn't mean to, er, um…intrude? I'll just go now, okay? Right now…" I being to edge away. Out of everything I expected, this scenario wasn't it. This wasn't it at all.

I cannot believe it. It's a hallucination. Or maybe I'm dreaming. Perhaps I'm going mad, finally. But surely, _surely, _this can't be real.

Because it just can't.

I can't be standing in the middle of this remote, _Aboveground _forest with the GOBLIN KING looming over me.

It's completely insane.

But no, I'm not dreaming. Because even my imagination can't conjure up the hot breath and iron arms that currently surround me. I am trapped, truly, against a tree and between these velvet-clad limbs. Pointed ears. A perfect, straight nose. The hair is shorter, blonder. He reminds me a little of Spike, from that vampire show Laurel is really into. Mis-matched eyes look deep into mine, scanning for something I cannot name. There is suddenly a clear look of recognition. Then fear, which I'm sure is a reflection of what is in my own orbs. And finally, a beautiful mixture of loathing and lust.

Oh great.

Damn.

"_Sarah,"_

Better yet. He remembers me too. Well. Isn't this going to be a happy little reunion?

"Oh, Sarah." He purrs. "What a coincidence I find you wandering among the trees on a night like this. My champion, alone and defenseless. What a prize."

I take a breath. "Listen, Goblin King, I—"

"You what? Beg for mercy?"

I glare. Typical of him, putting useless words in my mouth. "No, your Highness. Rather that you _back off." _And I shove.

And he doesn't move. Not even an inch. In fact, the only thing he seems incline to do is laugh in my face. My glare deeps to a scowl which only seems to make him laugh all the harder. Seeing that he is distracted in mocking me, I take the opportunity to kick him. In the shin. Hard.

This has a positive effect (for me, anyways) as he howls in pain while I slip under his arms to the center of the clearing. Now he is the one glaring. Directly at me, actually. He stalks toward me again and before I know it I'm running, darting between the dark branches. I've never been a particularly athletic person, you know, so this whole jogging thing isn't going so well, but I'm doing my best.

Apparently my best is just enough to evade one pissed-off Goblin King. He's at least thirty feet behind me, crashing through the trees, cursing loudly. I'm breathing heavily. Now I am the one laughing, hair whipping out behind me in my sprint, as it has fallen out of the messy bun with my speed. I see a break in the trees ahead. The water, the moon, the open field all beckon to me –

Right before I trip over a rock and am sent plummeting toward the ground. I scream. My whole body flips, so that my face points toward the night sky, view partially impaired by the branches above. A face enters my blurring vision—Jareth. Oh gods…my head hurts…he looks me over, concerned.

"Sarah?"

I moan loudly.

"Sarah, what hurts?" He demands fiercely, pulling me up (surprisingly gentle) by my elbows and shoulders. " Sarah, answer me!"

Always so bossy…I open my mouth again to voice my pain, but then my vision is lost and everything falls to silence.

**XXXXXX**


	6. Think Of Me

**XXXXXX**

My next moment in consciousness is filled with confusion. Then worry. And finally fear, because the very last thing I remembered could not possibly have happened. I mean, I must've dreamed Jareth was chasing me around the woods. Really.

"Sarah, can you hear me?"

But I apparently didn't. The Goblin King's baritone sounds in my ear, frantic. I open my eyes, blink, then look up. A very worried looking faire gazes back at me. I let out a cry and scramble away. Jareth lets out a breath.

"Can we please stop with the dramatics and allow me to examine you?"

"For what, you sick creep?" I shriek. "I don't want you to look at me, let alone touch me!"

He sighs, then says in a voice clearly restraining his frustration, "I will do nothing to harm you, Sarah, I just want to insure that you're alright."

I shake my head. She had brought me back to the clearing. One of his "ordinary crystals" hovers between us, emitting a soft, white light. I roll over, trying to sit up. Jareth just pushes me down. Surprisingly, my head is pillowed by something, which turns out to be his jacket. Under normal circumstances, I would push it away in total disgust, but considering how much my head is aching…it's not really the smart option. Jareth sits back, staring at me. It takes me a few minutes to realize he's puzzled. I openly gaze back, waiting.

"Why did you run?" He finally starts.

"Why are you here?" I shoot back.

He scowls, which quails me temporarily. "I inquired first, my dear. You needless injured yourself from that foolhardy behavior. Now I wish to know what motivated you."

Turning away, I cross my arms. "I was scared. I thought you couldn't go up here unless you were snatching children."

From the very corner of my eye, I see his eyebrows rise. "Whatever would lead you to that conclusion, Sarah?"

"I don't know," I mumble. "It just seems logical."

**XXXXXX**

Narrowing my eyes, I scrutinize the jumpy human. She refuses to look me in the eye, instead choosing to focus upon a cluster of clovers growing beside the base of the nearest tree. It is more than clear that my champion is lying, but for what cause? Then I see.

"Hogwart." I growl. Sarah's eyes dart to mine, then fall back to the pale flowers. "Hogwart-Hedghog told you that, did he not? And you believed him. As if he would know anything of my affairs, my travels."

Her fingers brush the tiny petals as she turns further away from me. I curse myself. So far, our reunion isn't going as I'd dreamed it would.

"He told me stuff." She says softly. "But whatever. He was obviously wrong."

We fall silent, each in our own little world; I stare at Sarah, Sarah stares at her flowers. She has greatly changed from a stick-thin girl with frumpy clothes to a curved young woman with style. I can see the remains of makeup around her eyes. Her hair, now barely passed her shoulder, smells of hairspray and spicy perfumes. She carries herself with a greater grace. A sense of calm surrounds her that I had never seen before. Sarah had grown up. Where had I been?

Well, I had seen her, of course. I had watched, over the years, as she had grown taller and older. But to view her up close…

It had felt like no time and forever since we'd last stood before one another. And here she was, a young adult among her people. Had I waited any longer, how much would things have changed? Would she have tarnished skin, folds, and silver hair? Would she have a husband, children, or perhaps even grandchildren? Would I have missed her life, only to return to see a polished stone, the only mark to prove that she had once lived, once loved and laughed and _known me? _ What if I had perhaps been too late?

Horrified, I sit back. Sarah glances my way, only to roll her eyes.

If I had never had the urge to come here, to gather power, I might not have ever seen my champion again. I find this feeling quite appalling, but I can't see why. She is a special human, but a human nonetheless. A soap bubble, nothing more. A very silly, very shaky soap bubble.

Who is currently crying. Grasping this thought, I scramble to swing 'round to face her. Sarah's eyes are red and puffy, and her breath is a coming out alongside wet sobs. Her shoulders shake with each heave.

"Are you in pain?" I demand, moving closer, pushing her face up to look at me.

"N-n-no." She gasps, shaking her head. I keep her face locked between my gloved hands, making her look me in the eye.

"What, then Sarah?" I'm scared. She mustn't see this. "Sarah?"

The silly girl merely whimpered, cowering as I stood, carrying her up with me. We stood together, her hands pressed against my chest and body against mine.

"I-I-" She stuttered before calming. I stroked her quaking back with one hand. "For so long…you weren't real." I raise a single brow. She ignores me to continue. "Even though I could accept that the Ludo and Sir Didymus and Hoggle were all real, you…were…my villain. I had to work to not think about you. I didn't _want_ to think about you."

"And why is that, Sarah? Why wouldn't you want to think of me?"

**XXXXXXXXX**


	7. I Burn to See You In Action

**XXXXXXXXX**

_Because I didn't want to wish myself away. Because you might have been my villain, but you were my wake up call, my savior. Because I couldn't stand to see you again. Because if I did wish it, if you didn't come for me…I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Because what if you weren't real anymore?_

I open my mouth, staring into those mismatched orbs. What can I say? Admit my fear? My gratefulness? What is there to say? The knowing stare makes me wonder—_is there anything to say at all?_

After the…event…I changed. For the better. He woke me up. He called me out on being brat, something that had been done before, but…no one had ever frightened me like that, with such a combination of darkness and joy. Somehow in so few words, it was communicated to me that the only thing holding me back from _living_, from becoming a true adult, was my own limitations, my own inability to act with maturity. So when I came back, I tried. I mean, really tried. And it wasn't easy. But I held on, just thinking _"Oh, if Jareth saw me…" _I could make him see. He had inspired me, indirectly.

I thought one day, he would see me again. And he would see not Sarah, the bratty child-keeper, but Sarah the-well, I don't know yet. But it's certainly better than brat.

And here we are. It isn't quite as I pictured—I am not in a tiara and surrounded by a crowd of admirers, nor am I a successful doctor, or anything. I'm just a 20-year-old student with a summer job in her home town.

Just a little lame, if we're honest.

As would be my excuse to above mentioned Goblin King if I don't start thinking on my feet pretty soon. He is looming over me, that one dang hand still running up and down the length of my spine. The thoughtless motion made it difficult to think.

"Care to stop that?" I ask breathily.

"What?" Jareth inquires lazily.

"That thing you're doing with your hands."

"Oh—this?" He grins wickedly, using his one free hand to stroke my cheek.

"That and the whole back-rubbing thing."

Jareth, of course, being Jareth, ignores me and continues his little rubbing-fest. I grumble quietly. However, I am ignored.

"Why did you not wish to think of me, lovely Sarah?"

Oh. I've forgotten we'd been discussing my wish to forget him. "Maybe I just didn't want to think about you." I say through gritted teeth. "After all, you did steal my infant brother and forced me to run through your oh-so treacherous maze to retrieve him. Don't cha think a girl has better things to do on a weekend evening?"

Jareth rolls his eyes delicately. "I didn't force you to do anything, my dear. You had a choice. You've always had a choice, especially in my _labyrinth." _

"Kiddies' maze." I sneer.

"Little girl," He begins, leaning in closer. His breath plays across my lips when jut my chin forward. "You may have bested the labyrinth, but you have yet to beat its king."

"I never wanted to best the king." I try drawing back, but somehow the weasel had me in a complete vise grip. I wasn't move an inch. "Though I would not object to beating you. With like a club, or something. Sound fun?"

"Perhaps not." He admits as I struggle against his lean form. "But you set out to all the same, perhaps not purposefully."

"What do you mean?"

Without answer, I am spun in his arms to face away, while he buries his face into my hair, inhaling. Whoa. That's not slightly creepish, or anything. "What are you doing?"

"Ah Sarah," Jareth breathes. "What luck I have to find you tonight. Here. The gods must be with me, for I could've never conjured such a dream as this."

I groan. "What are you talking about?"

"I have waited," He continued as though I hadn't said a word. "Half a decade to see you in the flesh. And know that I would have waited longer, for your sake, but it is clear that tonight is no consequence. I can see now, there is no point in waiting."

"What?"

"You've got to best the king tonight, Sarah." He says seriously, mis-matched eyes glinting in the darkness. "Or else you'll be not simply his champion, but also his prize. Ah, how I have waited…"

"For god's sake, what are you going on about?" I ask desperately, pulling against him. "Waiting for what?"

"You are my champion."

"I am no one's champion." I hiss. "Least of all yours."

"Sarah, you are my champion. You won my labyrinth, my kingdom, my—"

He needn't finish that statement. I close my eyes. There had been myths, of course. And gossip amongst my labyrinth friends. Not to mention the occasional nightmare. Plus, the book itself had said it. It was one of my most favourite lines—"_But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers. So one night…" _After the champion was won, she was stolen away in night to never be seen in this world again? So, was this it? My swan song to this world? An argument with a stubborn fae man?

Luckily for me, he drifted off from the last statement. I relaxed. He won't say it. He can't rely on some kid's story to define his emotions. Surely he knows this. I mean, it's just a story. A kid's story.

"My heart."

I froze.

"As the king, I hold claim to each champion. No one has won in…a very long time." He clears his throat. "I am in need of a consort. And you Sarah, as my champion, are—"

It was around this time, when he was getting all mushy, that I felt his grip relax. He is feeling comfortable. I lean against him breathing slowly. If he felt relaxed enough, I might just be able to break out and go.

"—my first preference for that role. But I can't just take you away."

"Damn straight you can't."

He ignores me. "Oh no. There are conditions. A ritual, you might say."

"Which is?" I breathe.

"A chase." He says simply. "A final challenge. If the king can catch his champion, he truly deserves her. And then they shall be bound for eternity."

_What?_

Jareth's hands slipped away from my body. I turned to face him. He stands away from me, teeth glinting in the moonlight. For the first time, I watch him carefully pull off his black leather gloves and tuck them into his velvet jacket. I do not understand why, but I feel like this particular act holds some sort of gravity. It is meaningful.

"One touch." He lifts a hand to my face, knuckles merely a centimeter from the skin of my cheek, touchlessly tracing my contours. "And I win, Sarah." The Goblin King steps back, face darkening. "So I suggest you run, little girl. You have a three minute head-start."

I'm staring, open-mouthed, when he says this. But it doesn't take long for the challenge to compute. Before my mind really knows what's happening, my body has launched, rocketing forward in a clumsy sprint. My path this time is in the opposite direction than before. As I dart between low-lying branches, I listen for the sound of Jareth's merciless boots pounding on the ground. So far, he's kept his word and given me a half a minute's advance. Finally I hear his steps behind me. I long to glance back, but I'm scared it would hold me back. Or cause me to trip. I surge forward with more speed. This is not exactly life-or-death, but still. I mean, I'm pretty sure my losing will lead to me being dragged kicking and screaming by some arrogant Goblin King to be his…consort. Which I think really means I will be an unwilling bride.

Yeah.

Totally blows.

I've been running for over 10 minutes (my typical two-mile time) before I stop. I cannot continue at this pace for much longer; the stitch in my side and throbbing heart tell me as much. So I slow to a much quieter jog. One of the lake's three rivers lay on my left. The wisest move at this point would be to move along, then across to circle back around to the edge of the road. Perhaps if I keep following it, I'll either come across my cabin, or the highway and then the Red Trout Café, the lake's eatery. Rhonda, the hostess, will surely let me use the phone to call…somebody.

That's if it is open. Last time I checked, it was more than two hours past closing. I ought to make it there by five, at least. It's a twelve-mile trail from my cabin to civilizations, so that would make it…

In the moonlight, I trail alongside the gurgling water, listening keenly for any sound. Jareth, it would seem, has lost me. Or…as the though occurs to me, I scan all the nearest trees. He could have easily transformed into his owl form. It would be much easier, I'm sure, to search from an aerial view rather than ground-level. _Crap. _

But he's no where around. Hopefully this just means he took a wrong turn. Gods, I feel like I'm in an episode of _Mantracker. _

**XXXXXX**

The vigorous run is just what I need. I am fully excited about my conquest. Each step, each ounce of blood that surges through my pumping heart serves to electrify my mood. I have boundless energy. Sarah, my love, you do not stand a chance. So sorry.

I lose my trail somewhere along the lake's edge, where her footprints fade out of the muddy shore. At first I am greatly frustrated. She is playing a useless game. This chase has no limits in space or time. She may run. She might return to her little cabin, drive to the city and hole up in her utilitarian pit of a home. But that cannot stop me, it will not end this. I will merely transport myself to her lodging to taunt her. But I won't touch her. Oh no. I shan't end this until she chooses to. When she is at my feet, begging me to take her away, then I shall take her. And it cannot be long.

Sarah _loathes_ her life. The constant, predictable grind of school, work, and family is tiring and boring to this young woman. Oh, I will let her go back to her apartment. It will work to my advantage. It will not take more than a week for her to grow so hopeless, so very jaded, that she will cry for my return. I remind her of everything simple her life could become—Queen of Goblins. An easy life.

When I reach a river, I pause. I cannot hear her. However, a set of foot prints lines the river bank. I am willing to bet that they are Sarah's, for they are identical to the set I had been previously following. And they stop directly on the other side.

_Gotcha._

**XXXXXX**


	8. Right Here With You

**XXXXXX**

Over half a mile from the river, there is a fine rise of rocks that line a steep hillside. By some miracle, a slim path wound up the hill and along the rocks. It hadn't been used in a while, as a blanket of young grass indicates. I am resolved follow it till I find civilization. This is a camper's trail. It has to lead to something.

As I travel on, I realize just how tired I am. I'd gotten three or so hours of sleep after a long drive and terrible day at work. My body isn't conditioned for this kind of trekking. Today I had planned on going for a brisk morning hike, but I hadn't imagined it to be this early. When I get back to the cabin, as soon as I've barred the door and windows, I am taking a long, long nap. And then I am cutting my weekend short and traveling back to the city.

I have been at this chase for nearly an hour. While I am ready to throw in the towel, Jareth probably isn't anywhere near giving up. I cannot understand why he feels compelled to bother me. For god's sake, surely the Underground has some other fae women to stoke his fire? I mean, I am one measly human kid. What am I to him? Does he like punishing himself? Am I being chased by a masochistic fairy king?

After another twenty minute's walk, I decide it is time for a break. Sighing, I drop to settle on the ground, back pressed against one large stone. Stupid Jareth. If it wasn't for him and his damn charm, I would be in bed right now, sleeping. Tomorrow I could get up, have some coco, make eggs and bacon for breakfast, then hike a little. It would've been a relaxing day.

But no. He just had to stop by and enforce his will upon us meek mortals.

As I sit, I consider all I know about the Goblin King. My Google search five years ago I eventually unearthed the unusual name in a baby-naming data base. In it's Welsh interpretation apparently meaning uncertain, perhaps gentle. But in German it's translated as _"brave with the spear." _

He really doesn't seem to be that bad of a guy. Maybe a little cocky. Certainly domineering, but I suppose you would have to be, if you wanted to be king. He is…so real. So very real. I mean, he isn't supposed to be real. He is supposed to be a figment of my imagination, a character from a child's story. And yet.

And yet I am here. Sitting against a rock. Running to hide from this monster.

From behind me, I hear a crack. A twig, snapping under the pressure of a foot. I glance behind me. A shadow looms beside some distant rocks, leaning against the stones in a very casual manner. In a very familiar manner. I stand and embark on a clumsy run. More crashing and cracking follows me. _Damn. _I had not expect to run up here. It is a perilous path, not one for a clumsy girl like me to be jogging upon. If I am not careful I am bound to fall to my death.

**XXXXXXX**

My victory is practically in the palm of my hand when I find her lying beside some stones on the edge of a hill. She appears to be very distracted with her own thoughts, something I suspect to be quiet typical of Sarah. Had she been just a smidge more alert, she would have long ago sensed me. I stand, posted at the crest of the bluff, overlooking her and the treacherous path winding through the rocks. Minutes pass, and still she feels nothing! Frustrated, I apparate onto the path, less than a few dozen yards from her. One step forward, just for good measure—

_Snap._

Like a rabbit, her head snaps to the left, eyes searching the darkness for something, _anything, _but me. Alas, she catches the silhouette. She bounces to her feet, practically flying down the path to escape my inevitable presence. I grin. The chase is on. Again. I swoop after, determined to end this game. She is being exceedingly stupid by scaling the face of the hill _running. _I have seen it from above, there is no way a girl as clumsy as Sarah could manage to scale the entire thing at that speed, not with the narrowness of the path, the loose soil, the mud, the excess of rocks. It is near-impossible. But then again, Sarah seems to be a magnet for near-impossible things, such as beating my labyrinth, and meeting me here on a perfect bounding night. Never have I met a human twice. Perhaps she will be able to exceed my estimations.

Ah, no. Just when I am sure the child has bested me again, her foot hits a loose bit of dirt along the narrow path and she is instantly sent plummeting down, tumbling as hands flail, trying to catch a hold on surrounding rocks and greenery. Her scrambling feet manage to find a solid stopping point eventually, and her rolling body comes to rest just as I land above. She is more than fifty feel below me, panting and moaning in evident pain. It all took less than five seconds. Five seconds where my heart stopped and I couldn't even bear to think, but just move to the nearest vantage point, praying, hoping, wishing for her to be alive.

"Sarah!" In the few seconds she was falling she sustained a good number of scrapes, cuts, and soon-to-be bruises. Her hair has fallen out of its messy bun. Bright eyes stare up at me as she struggles to maintain support. I've got no chance of climbing down for any sort of rescue; though it is doubtful that she would allow for my aid. I stare back, silently urging for surrender. "Are you—"

"My foot." She cuts across me, voice high-pitched. "It's stuck. Maybe broken, it feels… and—" One hand moves to the back of her head, then comes away dark and wet with blood not previously there. I am shaken by the sight. Sarah just stares, unsure of what she ought to be doing.

"Sarah, can you come to me?" I do not go down, for fear that she might struggle against me and further injure herself. I may be fruitless, anyways. At such an angle, even I may be unable to physically move her. I am caught between longing to aid my beloved girl and respecting her wishes. I cannot risk any further damage. I must wait for her to request my help.

She shakes her head. "I'm stuck, Jareth." She whispers. And I know her definition "stuck" holds to more than just the physical.

"Then—" I cannot think of a persuasive argument to what she will surely point out in my offer. But damn that woman, this is her _life. _Whether or not she's living Aboveground or Below, at the very least, she ought to be living! "—Sarah, I cannot retract my challenge once the chase has begun. There is a way, but I don't know-"

The girl hangs her head. "Thought not."

I am left to do nothing, unless she agrees to accept my aid. And I am not about to watch my beloved die.

"Say yes, and I can release you."

"No." It is firm. I try again.

"Sarah, this is your _life."_

"I know."

And she does. Perfectly. She is approaching the decision in a mature and reasonable manner, giving it much thought. It is taking far too much time. I can see her expression, see the choice she is leaning toward. "You would rather die here, in such an undignified manner, suffering alone, than live forever with me? With your childhood friends, your fantasy life?"

She is very quiet for a very long time before saying, "I'm not alone."

"No?" I laugh.

"You're here."

I howl, a wretched primal sound that echoes through the wood. Sarah winces. "I am nothing to you, as you have already made clear."

"You're not." She protests weakly, head lolling a bit as she looks up, gaze as strong as ever. _For my will is as great…_ "You're my perfect fairy tale villain."

"I would have rather been your prince." I stoop to look at her more closely. She is fading quickly, her volume dropping. Growing paler by the minute. "But that wasn't the role you cast me in. Wasn't the role you wanted. I did my best, though…"

"…Reordered time…the stars. Everything. All for me." Sarah smiles, a bittersweet note about her tone. "I always wondered why."

My voice cracks as I chuckle humorlessly. "Oh my Sarah, I told you plainly enough. '_ I ask for so little…just fear me. Love me. And I will be your slave.' _Funnily enough, you have yet to do either of those things, yet I have always been a slave to your whims and wishes. Still, you never saw fit to give back._" _

"I always feared you. You were my only way to Toby, I had to. Then after, I kept looking over my shoulder, scared you would come back. As for giving back, your own ideas of repaying a debt I never knew I had were difficult at best."

"I just asked you to fear and love me."

"I was fifteen. I had no idea what love was. You're what, hundreds of years old? How was I supposed to handle that? I could barely handle a senior boy to noticing me, but a magically powerful ancient fae? Oh sure, walk in the park."

"Those are not valid comparisons."

"Oh yeah?"

"No high school twit knew you as I. They couldn't turn the world upside down, they couldn't move any stars."

"Great acts don't always prove great devotion. You were scary. I was young, and stupid, and just…not ready. I didn't want the world. I just wanted to grow up."

We are quiet. Sarah's breathing is labored, and I fear perhaps she has broken a few ribs besides busting open her head. Why can she not accept me? Am I really such a monster in her eyes?

"Jareth?"

"Mmmm?"

"Would've…have really done all those things?"

"What things, love?"

"Painted me morning of gold. Valentine evenings. Paths between the stars."

"Yes." I say softly, overwhelmed. She remembered my song. "Had you let me. I would have made you queen."

Once again, silence falls, until:

"I don't want to die." Sarah whispers into the soil against her cheek. I drop from the trace we'd both fallen into from focusing on our breathing patterns—mine rhythmic, Sarah's unsteady and labored.

Stirring, I murmur, "Then let me help you."

"I can't." It is now that my champion begins to break. Tears weld in her forest eyes as her hands clench into fists and she pounds at the earth. "Don't you see I can't? I worked for this life. I'm an adult, not a fairy tale princess."

"No one ever said you were." I say gently. "But please. I would change things if I could, just to see you alive. Do you think I wish to see you unhappy? Dying? I don't want a caged bird, Sarah. Merely a mate. But since you'd rather seek death than my embrace…I wish I could, but once I touch you…"

"Couldn't you just, I don't know, do it then divorce me, or something?" She is getting frantic now, head moving blinding in pain. I do my best to remain calm.

"It doesn't work like that. Once bound, we are bound for life. You'd never be able to leave the Underground without me."

"So, there is no other way?"

"I am sorry."

Her sobs ring out in the night. I loathe the sound of her sorrow, but I have given her options. It is not as though I am leaving her to die. Listening is pure agony. Her cries die off sometime later, and I fear I have lost her with it. But she speaks, a soft whisper even I strain to hear.

"Don't leave me."

"I'll stay right here." I promise.


	9. Any Other Way

**XXXXXXX**

Even though it the night is moving close to dawn, somehow it has grown darker. Though, it may just be my vision, fading with the rest of me. Jareth cannot see it, but the wound on my head is costing me a lot of blood, which my hair and jacket soak up just as quickly as it comes out. It is rather morbid to think about, so I occupy my thoughts with other things. Like being saved. By Jareth.

I am considering it very seriously. Life with him could not be so bad. He is being so kind, not taking advantage of me. So noble.

And it isn't a bad thought, really, spending forever with the Goblin King. He isn't too bad on the eyes. He is kind, and gentle. Though prickly and smug and witty when needed. A complete pain in the ass, sometimes, but altogether not terrible. A bearable life. We would be happy, honestly, fighting every step of the way. He has wit. Humor. It could be a good life.

A caged life, nonetheless.

Could I stand not seeing my family again? My crappy apartment, the bookshop, the 1960s weave-wallpapered classrooms of my college campus? My roommates? Clara? Laurel? Karen? Dad? Toby? Would I be able to live on, after all of them passed?

Yes, I decide. I could. And I will. So, maybe I don't quite love Jareth. But I can. One day. We would have forever, right? Seeing this new, softer, side of him without the menacing outfits, really changed my outlook on his offer. We're both adults now. It is a near-even playing field. We can come to an understanding.

I open my mouth, ready to announce my decision. _"Yes. Yes, I'll come with you. A thousand times yes, just please—"_

"_Jareth, I know what I said—"_

"_I'll stay. Forever."_

"_I wish the King of the Goblins would save me, right now…"_

"_Please-"_

"_Jareth—"_

"I wish…"

My world fades to black.

**XXXXXXX**

My attention is stirred at her soft voice. I watch as Sarah slips into unconsciousness. Her head falls back, revealing streaks of blood upon her neck. It is far too much. I cannot just sit by to watch her die. Before I know what I am doing I find my hands encased in gloves once more, and I am beside her too-still body. Then we're back in the clearing and I am chanting before her. This is the only way I know how to heal what has been broken without trespassing upon her expressed wishes. She is glowing a pure white and wind creeps up, pulling at our hair and clothes.

Spell after spell, charm and charm again, nothing seems to heal the worst of her wounds: a punctured lung and fractured skull. Her ankle is slowly mending, the ribs are fusing at a rapid pace, the skin broken on the back of her skull has knitted back, yet it seems as though nothing can save her from suffocation and the bone at the back of her head. I try again and again to pull her back, but blood loss combined with a lack of oxygen is something on a true master healer could pull off.

Unless…

Bound partners have virtually no limits when it comes to healing each other. They pull energy from one another, which allows the body to accept its own familiar magic with ease. It would be simple, really, to repair Sarah's broken body if we were bound to one another.

But she might never forgive me.

Casting my beloved girl a glance, I realize that her eternal anger is nothing in comparison to the despaired I will surely feel if she is lost to me. I have no choice. It is now or never. And I would prefer it to be now.

Resigned, I slide off my gloves. This is not what I wanted. But this is what it had come down to. Somehow, even in her unconscious state, Sarah had managed to spite me. I take a breath, then with the very tips of my fingers, caress Sarah's marred cheek softly.

It is as though the forest exploded. My mind is ripped from my body to collide with great force into hers. We are together. We, once apart, are once as feelings fuse, thoughts meld, and connections form. It is powerful magic, so old and deep it is no longer magic but nature, taking its course. I feel, for a brief moment, every inch of her pain. I see every heartache, dream and secret. I feel an overwhelming love for her family. Warmth toward friends. Loathing. Lust. Hatred and fondness, then—

Confusion. And passion. And joy.

For me.

It is a quick ceremony, yet each second feels like a decade. In my thousands of years, I had never felt something as electrifying as this. Every emotion either of us has ever felt, condensed down into a second's worth of feeling. Our minds cross and bow, joining like two puzzle pieces lost across time. We were bound.

And my beautiful champion isn't going to be a nip pleased about it when she wakes.

**XXXXXX**

**Sorry that took awhile. **

**I hope you've enjoyed this so far! I reposted to A) shorten the fict to sections easier to read, and B) get some actual reviews, because a lot of people just added this to faves or alerts. So, if you're not too busy, could you write me one? **


	10. No Regrets, But Your Own

**XXXXXX**

Passing out apparently is in style for me this season—I seem to be doing a lot of it lately.

I am awake for a bit before I open my eyes. Gods, my head feels like its exploded, then been packed into a sardine can. A hangover perhaps, though in mass proportions. Lord, I need some Midol or aspirin or something. What had I done? The last thing I remember is coming home after work to an empty flat. After that, nothing. It kinda reminds me of that time, after the labyrinth, where I could barely remember the day before—

Oh.

The labyrinth.

The labyrinth. The Goblin King. Who came to…to…last night. And we…I…there was a chase! And I…

Won?

No. I couldn'tve. I fell. I was injured. I must be….

But I'm not.

Oh. Oh dear.

Realizing that I might not actually be awake, I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists. I am not much a philosopher, so I have not explored much on the whole death concept, like where you when kick it, or if you can come back. Heaven and hell. Stuff like that. I am very, very scared to open my eyes, though…it cannot be too terrible if the air smells like honey and it feels warm and fresh. There is a faint trace of pine. As I wake more and more, I feel more of my body. I am covered by something soft, heavy, and warm. So warm, it is almost stifling. Finally, I open my eyes to pull it off.

My eyes are met with a wooden ceiling. And then a quilt. The yellow story quilt my great-aunt made. I sit up. With one hand, I trace out one plump pink rose. This quilt is probably over fifty years old, yet looks as though the last seam was threaded only yesterday. I am in my grandmother's cabin. My Nana's cabin, which I had left in the wee hours of the morning to explore the lakeside after feeling an unreasonable urge to move.

Had it just been a dream?

I ease myself into a sitting position. Morning light streams through a gap in the curtains. Shards of light reflected from the lake water dance upon the rough wooden floor. It is positively enchanting. Minutes pass as I watch the shimmering flecks.

It must have all been a dream. I had thought about the Goblin King and the labyrinth a lot the day before, and as I drifted off to sleep. It made sense. From what I learned in psych class, it was perfectly normal for me to create the situation in my dreams after focusing on a particular subject for a great deal of time. I only hoped Freud's dream theory wasn't applicable to this specific situation.

Deciding it was time to get up, I stood, crossing to the carved wardrobe. This cabin was built before closets were really popular. This wardrobe was brought over from Russia by my great-great-great grandfather on Mom's side. Nana always said it smelled _"of the old country," _which she had visited only once, when she was 60. I keep a small selection of clothes there for every visit, but I brought some I'd rather wear today. It's decided that I shall return to the city. That dream was just too trippy for me.

It's time for a shower. I pull out a bathrobe and pair of jeans, then stoop to my duffle for a clean t-shirt. All I can find is a white tank top and my pink floral button down. It's cute, really. But I frown, sure that I had brought more than this. Hadn't I packed that one neon blue shirt I'd gotten for donating blood last semester?

Something in my brain clicks, and I tug on the hem of the bright blue shirt I am currently clad in. I could've swornI wore my black drama club shirt and grey sweats to bed. I stare for a minute at the blue fabric in my hand. Then I shrug it off. I must have been half-asleep last night when dressing for bed.

With all my necessary items in hand, I open the bedroom door, intent on using the bathroom. However, I am stopped in my tracks upon seeing that I am not the cabin's only occupant. And my memory that last night's events were not the result of a dream.

The Goblin King stands in my tiny kitchen, filling my ancient kettle with tap water.

For a full twenty seconds, I stand gaping. Then I drop my clothes, and back into the bedroom, shutting the door as the Goblin King turns in surprise.

**XXXXXXXX**

I watch as Sarah flees to her quarters, paling with each hurried step. She is obviously in shock. Sighing, I cross to knock on the door of her room. My efforts are met with a muffled, "_Please go away."_

"I cannot." I pause. "Sarah, let me in."

Silence.

Without another plea, I apparate into her room, landing into the corner furthest from the bed. She has draped herself across the mattress and tucked her head under one pillow. I venture to sit on the edge of the bed.

"This has to be a dream." The girl moans, curling her knees to her chest.

"I am afraid not, my love."

"How?" She sits up, eyes on fire. "I…must be hallucinating."

"You're not." I prove by stroking one hand. Sarah snatches her limb back, glaring at me. "And this attitude is not going to change anything."

She freezes, eyes locked onto mine. "Did I lose?" She whispers. I glance to my hands, encased in their usual black leather. Her gaze follows my own. Seeing my hands clench, her shoulders drop. "Jareth, did I?"

There is no kind answer. "I am sorry."

She cannot answer. Her eyes are unfocused and her breath is held.

"Sarah," I begin gently. "There was no other way. I tried, but the severity of your wounds… I am sorry. But to watch you die—it was not an option."

She just shakes her head.

I snap. "Sarah, I would never let you die on me for the cost of your pride. Not if I had the means to prevent it. Be mad if you will, throw a childish fit, but nothing can make me regret my actions. Yours, however, are the only ones I can feel any remorse over."

Looking thoroughly confused, Sarah pulls her knees closer to her chest, squeezing her pillow. She looks smaller, more childlike. I cannot help but move closer, caressing her hair.

"You saved me?"

"Yes."

"And…we're bound, or whatever, now?"

"Yes." I say slowly. "Is that alright?"

I receive no vocal answer. Sarah wordlessly leans out of my touch, only to push me against the headboard and arrange herself against me, using my chest as a pillow. Grabbing my hands, she removes the gloves and hesitantly entwines our fingers. She looks up, as if inquiring _"Is this okay?"_ I just squeeze her hand.


	11. Things May Be Awkward

**XXXXXX**

We leave later, in evening. I convince Jareth to allow me one last visit with my family and a stop by my apartment to settle things for my roommates. He is wary, sure that the fifteen minutes it will take to explain the situation to my parents will cause me change my mind. But I put his fears to rest, swearing up and down that I am coming home with him just as soon as my affairs are arranged up here.

_Home. _Jareth promises me it will be to my liking, but I cannot bring myself to care. Just to know that I am alive and able to live in the fantasy world I've waited to experience again for five years is enough.

We arrive at my parent's house around six after having packed up my flat and left my final deposit, along with a note explaining my absence to my roommates. Jareth has, at my request, changed into a dark sports jacket, Sex Pistols t-shirt, jeans, and temporarily altered his hair. He has also reduced his age, so as to look closer to my age, rather than 40, as I am sure my parents will perceive. According to his highness, he is closer to eight thousand years in age. Right now I see a thin, almost-surly young twenty-seven-year old with neatly gelled pale blonde hair, wearing a Rolex and Armani jacket.

We land on the porch. Jareth catches my nervous glance and squeezes my hand. I smile weakly and press the plastic button that will seal my fate. The doorbell goes off with its typical cheer. From inside, I hear the sounds of Karen straightening the foyer as she hurries to answer the door. I hadn't called, or anything, but unannounced visits are usually accepted with grace in the Williams household, at least when it comes to me. I hold my breath when the door opens, revealing my stepmother, clad in a coral button down and khakis, complete with pearls, peers out curiously.

"Sarah?"

I step forward, smiling as best I can. "Hi, Karen."

"I thought you were going to the lake, sweetie." She's displaying clear concern, peppered with distaste for my rudeness. I should have called, of course.

"I was. I mean, I did, but now I'm back. Is Dad home?" I know he is. We saw his grey Mercedes sitting in the drive. Besides, it was Saturday. He rarely worked Saturdays.

"Yes, he's in the living room. Why? Sarah, is something wrong?" She eyes Jareth, apparently trying to discern what, exactly, he has in connection to me. He, in turn, ignores her in favour of keeping his attention set on me.

"I need to see Dad. And you and Toby. Right now." I move inside, forcing Karen to unblock the doorway. Jareth follows, grabbing my hand again, which we hide in the folds of my dress. Yes, I've worn a dress. It's light blue, simple thing paired with a black cardigan and plain black flats. Nothing too scary. Serious. We are here for business.

We find my father in the sitting room, reclining upon his favourite Laz-y-Boy, watching a Cubs game. Seeing me, he flicks off the TV. "Sarah, we didn't know you were coming home—" He stops when he sees Jareth.

Karen stands in the doorway behind us, helplessly shrugging. She turns to me. "Toby's at a friend's house tonight. He's having a sleepover."

I groan. Crap. Well, this isn't going to make it any easier. Jareth, following a pattern I am sure will follow us through the rest of our lives, squeezes my hand.

"Listen, Karen, could you just sit down? With Dad? Jareth and I-" Their eyes turn in unison to my partner. "—have something to tell you."

Karen sits, looking quite befuddled. She and Dad mirror me and Jareth with clasped hands. I take a breath.

"So, um…this is Jareth—"

"Of Kingsbury, Undergordania." He inputs smoothly. I note a trace of an accent, slightly Russian.

"We met this spring. On campus. He's a study aboard student." I hurry on. "We were just friends, until this summer, when he found the bookshop."

"I had quite a…how do you say it?" He looks to me. "Crush? Crush on your daughter. I found where she labored, and—"

"Asked me out." I'm turning red now, partly out of fear and partly from embarrassment. "We've been dating for two, three months. And well, he—"

"I am the prince of a small European country. We were once a Soviet territory, but my father fought and we were granted our own state. I must go back, once the summer is over. Next week, actually."

My father gazes at me. "And what has that got to do with our Sarah?"

"I wish for Sarah to come with me."

We hold our breath. Both my father and Karen blink slowly, trying to process this bomb we've dropped on their happy little lives. A man they've never met wishes to whisk me away to a country they've never heard of, all within the next couple of weeks. Worse, he's loads older and a prince. They haven't got the slightest clue what's happening. Though, I'm guessing it could be worse-a magical creature they don't really believe in could be here to snatch me away against my will. Technically, that is what's happening. Except for the whole "unwilling" part. We're kind of past that.

While I love them both and they love me, but we've never been exactly close. I was never my father's "baby girl," never Karen's best friend, and just a passable sister to Toby. My departure would be, at best, confusing and a little upsetting, yet I would be causing no heartbreak. Toby would probably be the one most traumatized. I hated the fact that I would be leaving without a goodbye, but we had no choice. Jareth could only stay up here for so long and the biding required me to be with him on all Aboveground ventures. I made him promise me Christmastime visits, but it wasn't quite enough. Poor kid. I can't imagine what he'll think.

"I know this is sudden." I rush in to the declaration, realizing it to be a huge understatement. "But Jareth only just asked me to go about two days ago. I mean, it just happened so fast…And he's got to leave soon, because of some state business. He offered to just send my tickets for winter break, or whatever, but I said I'd rather just go with him. I know this sounds like a total fairy tale, with him being a prince and what not, but…it's real. He's real. And I…really, really like him. A lot." I finish lamely.

Finally my father sputters, spouting out the first thing that strikes him. "How are we—how are we supposed to know you're a prince, or anything? Have any papers, or something to prove it?"

"Would you like my birth certificate, sir?" Jareth is polite. "I am sorry, but there is little on paper I can give you to prove my birthright. I assure you, I am what I say I am."

"And Undergordina— I've never heard of it."

I cut it. "There are loads of little European nations that aren't well-known, Dad. It exists. I've looked it up. Google maps, and everything. He's not lying. Just look it up—you'll find pictures of him with the royal family and everything." It was true. Jareth had managed to manipulate the internet enough to leave a good deal of evidence indicating his relation to the nonexistent royal family and additional information about his homeland. He's also setting it up so that my cell phone can still connect to the Aboveground, so I can make "transatlantic" calls. "I want to go with him."

"But Sarah—what about your education?"

"She'll be a—"

"She's twenty!" Dad snaps. "I don't care if she's going to become a McDonald's manager. She's getting an education."

"She can and she will." Jareth assures him. "We have very good programs. An excellent royal university."

Karen pipes up. "Why can't she just stay here, until she has completed her studies?"

Jareth opens his mouth, then looks to me. I take the question. "Neither of us are too hot on long distance-relationships. Yeah, they all say if you love something, let it go, and all that. But regardless…we don't want to wait. At all."

My father's look darkens. "Do you plan on getting married, then? Right away?"

It's Jareth's turn to answer, as I am stumped. We'd yet to discuss an actual marriage. "I know you would probably rather we wait for her to graduate. But I have a stable livelihood. And Sarah doesn't want to wait long. We will, however, hold off on a wedding until we can have one here. With your family."

Dad stares for what seems like a full minute before saying gruffly. "You're royal and all. Won't your family want to come as well? And the media? I don't want my girl ending up like Princess Di!"

I'm surprised he even knows who Diana was. "Daddy, Undergor-" I look to Jareth. He nods on my pronunciation. "-dania isn't like England. It's not really well-known. Not a lot of media to deal with. They have like, one bi-weekly paper."

My father sits back in his chair. He is clearly thinking very, very hard about the situation at hand. We wait. He glances at Karen, who looks at me, then Jareth. Now they're both looking Jareth over. I'm the one squeezing his hand. I shouldn't be too frightened; they're got nothing, really, to object to. Even so, I'm in complete agony. Their approval will make it so real. If they say yes I'll never be living here again. I shan't come back. I will be…queen. Or something.

After a time, Dad begins to nod slowly. "I suppose this sounds…reasonable. Sarah, I cannot stop you from going, you're an adult. I do not feel exactly comfortable with it—"

"This is all so sudden." Karen adds, strickened.

"—But I can accept your decision on the conditions that you finish school and then marry here, with your family. It sounds as though the two of you have worked everything out as best you can. I can't object."

I finally smile, breaking free of Jareth to hug my father. _"Thanks." _I whisper in his ear.

Everything goes by in a blur. Karen leaves to get everyone some iced tea. Jareth and my father review over the particulars of the arrangement. They're settling my life whilst I'm here in the room, and judging from Jareth's expression, he is take more than just a few of my dad's suggestions to heart. Karen bustles back in with a full tray. They begin to make small talk between themselves. I just settle back into the cushions of the couch. I want to get a clear picture in my mind of this place. To remember forever. Then I am struck with an even more urgent need. What of my bedroom?

"Excuse me," I'm saying. "I need to use the restroom." Without another word I exit the room, climb the stairs and slip into my childhood fortress.

They were given very strict instructions not to touch it while I was away. Karen, of course, put up a bit of a fuss. She wanted a new sewing room. But Dad agreed to let me keep it, provided I spent holidays and part of the summer at home. Thanks to him, nothing had changed.

After the labyrinth incident, I had boxed up most of my childhood things, removed the wallpaper and bought a more mature bed. Yet there were still traces. Lancelot remained on my bed, while the music box that reminded me of the crystal ball room never left my desk. A few months after the incident, I had felt compelled to buy a crystal ball almost identical to the ones my now-fiancé had juggled with ease. It rests on my desk alongside my paints and the music box.

I go about the room, touch various things, tucking a couple of true keepsakes into my purse. Eventually, Karen will haul everything out of here to create her sewing chamber. I don't know if she will throw everything away, or just box it up and put it in the attic, or some combination thereof. Whatever it is, I want the valuable things with me. Most everything important was at the flat, but there are a couple of items, like the music box, that are special. Mom gave me that music box, right after she left. She told me one of her special artist friends had made is especially for me, which I now take to mean _"I found it at a garage sale."_

I am only gone for a couple minutes, but by the time I return, the conversation has wound down in the living room. When Jareth sees me he bounds to his feet, kissing me gently on the cheek. I can tell he is more than ready to go. But this is my last chance to see my parents in a while, and my last few minutes in the Aboveground. I must savor them.

Karen abruptly requests my help in taking the tea glasses back to the kitchen. I aid without comment, suspecting she has some significant statement to make in private. I am not too far off. Once the kitchen door swings shut, she turns to face me.

"Sarah, I'm proud of you really. He is a nice man. But why didn't you tell us you were seeing someone?"

I struggle to come up with a logical response. "It was just all so fast, Karen. I mean, before I really knew it, we'd gone from hanging out, to dating, to—to—"

"Falling in love." Her expression softens. "I understand, sweetie. He's a very good man. Very good for you. Grounded. Confident. You're going to be happy together, I can tell."

"Yes." I feel my heart swell. "We will. We are."

She takes my hands. "And sweetie, even though we're going to be an ocean apart, I don't want you to hesitate if you need anything. I know you've never really seen me as your mom, but if there's any _womanly problems_ you need help with…I mean, he's a prince, honey, he's bound to have already walked down that street, so you don't need to let anyone pressure you."

I am both mortified and touched that Karen felt the need to tell me this. While sex has yet to be discussed (along with many, many other things), I know it is on the agenda. It hasn't really been an issue yet—considering we've been it each other's company for less than 24 hours, it shouldn't be. And knowing that Jareth is over 8 thousand years old, I feel more than a little sure he's _"been there, done that" _when it comes down to sex. Nevertheless, the topic hasn't really made me uncomfortable—until now, that is.

"A woman needs another woman's help sometimes, when it comes down to these things. I'm sure your own mother would offer her aid, if she wasn't already indisposed. So I just wanted to let you know, Sarah, that I'm here if you need me."

"Okay." I say, cheeks burning. "I'll keep that in mind. Um, thanks, Karen. That, um…means a lot to me. Really."

She just smiles and hugs me, hard.


	12. To Be, and Nothing More

**XXXXXXX**

Then we departed, walking down the street hand in hand. My parents were under the impression that we were going back to the park, where Jareth's car was parked. We did end up in the back, secluded along the tightly-knit group of trees, where the creek disappeared into the brush. It's the park where Jareth claims he first saw me, reciting prose from his little red book.

The sun has nearly set, casting a very gloomy light over the landscape. The air is thick with the last bits of an eventful summer day. No one is here, for it's a suburban area where children are brought in before dark. We are entirely alone. We stand on the bridge near the woods, leaning against the railing and one another. Clouds are rolling in, and Jareth tells me it's about to rain, we'd better go. But I merely press closer, burying my face into his jacket. He doesn't seem to mind much, as he strokes my hair with one hand. Everything about this moment is peaceful. There isn't a whole lot to say, so we just stand in silence, holding one another.

**XXXXX**

Nothing in the world feels more natural than standing here with Sarah, waiting for the clouds to explode and the rain to unleash upon us. I appreciate Sarah's ability to be comfortable around me. A thought strike me.

"I you would like, I could remain like this." I tell her timidly. Sarah looks up curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"I could remain this young, age with you. It is only a glamour. Nothing harmful. Though, I warn you, as the magic wears, you might have to see me in my true age. How I normally appear."

She looks me over, thoughtfully. It is startling how just a mere glance has the power to quail me. Finally, I am relieved with a quiet, "I don't mind either way. Though, it would be nice to have someone with a similar…" She drifts off, searching for the word. I fill in the blank, devilish inspired.

"Stamina?"

Laughing, Sarah pushes to me gently. "I was thinking appearance of age. Though, I don't mind older men."

"Age gap. Sexy."

I'm once again beaten with one hand, all while my partner giggles madly. It is quite endearing.

"Come Sarah, you deserve only a man who is experienced."

This time, all I receive is a heavy eye rolling. I pull her close to me again, pleased with the tiny _"squeak" she_ emits out of surprise. We stand in silence again. Sarah's ears are not nearly delicate enough, but I can hear the stagger of thunder, coming over the trees. The rain is only a few minutes away. Part of me feels ready to make our exit, but I know my champion would much prefer to wait. So we shall. For a while, for I highly anticipate our return home. My greatest homecoming. A long-awaited triumph, for all of us.

**XXXXXX**

The last bit of light has just disappeared over the horizon. I sigh, thinking that my own sun has truly set upon this world. It is all very poetic. All very true. But I cannot regret anything. Had Jareth not stepped in last night, by this time my family would be selecting coffins.

When I turn to Jareth to let him know I was ready, the clouds decide to release upon us, pouring sheets of their wet, grey matter on our meeting. Jareth, apparently figuring that the precipitation wishes to do me in, pulls me close to wrap me in his velvet cloak, which has appeared out of nowhere. He's still in his jacket, jeans and tee, which are all soaked. When I feel his hands encircle my waist, an idea enters my mind. I slip from his arms with ease to back off the bridge, grinning like mad. Jareth first looks confused, then has the dignity to appear indifferent. However, I'm not about to let him have his dignity. A quick whistle, and he's looking at me again. I gesture, spinning. The drops hit me like bullets, but I can't feel anything. I'm laughing too hard. My tongue is out, catching the water as I spin 'round and round the open grass.

Suddenly, my hand is in someone else's and I've crashed against someone's chest. Which is rumbling with good humor. And then, just as suddenly, my lips are being bruised with a crushing kiss. We're getting soaked. I'm shivering from cold and the rain and the sheer force of emotion running through me. These are details I'll only be able to recall later, with much thought. Right now, the only thing that can penetrate my thoughts is something along the lines of _"Oh. This is nice. This is Jareth kissing me. Why haven't we tried this before? Seems a lot smarter than arguing."_

Actually, it was probably less coherent. A lot less coherent. I'm not even sure I was really thinking much, rather, just moving in time with him. This age gap is definitely worth its investment. Jareth obviously knows what he's doing. And I certainly don't mind one bit.

Before long we're thrust apart, shivering with excitement and cold and shock. We stare at one another, dripping frigid water, which runs down our limbs and spines, our blushing cheeks and lips. The only thing to do now, really, is to go over it again. And again. And again. Till we're so filled, we fade into the rainy night, and into another life. We don't come back for a very long time.

**Well, here we are! The end. I hope you've enjoyed my first Labyrinth prose fan fiction. I have been a reader for sometime, it's a pleasure to finally join the ranks of the writers. Please review! Thank you. **


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